


The Three Times Freddie Spoke

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen, Mutism, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 12:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18828598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: A familiar yet foreign voice rung in Brian’s ears, making him freeze in place. He slowly turned around to face the other man, shock written into his features. He wanted to yell, did you just talk to me?? but realized how othering that would be. Instead, he smiled and said,“You think so?”There was a tinkling laugh exchanged between the two before Freddie walked away to go entertain Roger.





	The Three Times Freddie Spoke

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: Freddie with selective mutism! The majority of people have never heard him speak off stage. Not a peep. He can sing beautifully but he only ever seems to talk around the Queen boys (and even then that can be rare). In interviews he lets the boys talk or translate his sign language on occasion. So- maybe each Queen boy having him actually speak to them for the first time (or the first time Freddie speaks in an interview?)

The first time he spoke must have been a mistake.

Brian stood in front of the hallway mirror in Roger and Freddie’s flat messing with his hair. He kept floofing it up here and patting it over there and scrunching it up on the side. It wasn’t like he was getting ready for a photoshoot or anything. He just liked having his hair in decent shape. Call him vain, but his hair was kind of a big deal. To him at least.

So, he stood there, lost in his thoughts, fingers lost in his hair. He didn’t even notice Freddie walk behind him, a grin on his face as he watched the spectacle before him.

“Brian, darling, your hair is wonderful. Stop mussing it up,”

A familiar yet foreign voice rung in Brian’s ears, making him freeze in place. He slowly turned around to face the other man, shock written into his features. He wanted to yell, did you just talk to me?? but realized how othering that would be. Instead, he smiled and said,

“You think so?”

There was a tinkling laugh exchanged between the two before Freddie walked away to go entertain Roger.

♚

The second time they heard his voice, it was a fluke. 

Roger was back stage, panting and wiping the sweat from all over him. They’d just finished an extremely frustrating concert. The power kept going out every 7 fucking seconds it seemed and the audience was as dull and lifeless as his grandma who was currently 6 feet under. 

He was so irate towards the end that he could not stop himself from trashing his drum kit, nearly squishing Freddie and John in the process. They lived though, so he didn’t care. He’d just continue to fume backstage until he felt decent enough to go fix the problem he made.

Huffing and puffing, Roger continued to mop up his sweat, sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes, distracted by his thoughts.

He heard footsteps approach, his eyes shooting up to see who it was. Freddie walked closer, face neutral. Roger didn’t know what to think. Was he here to scold him with some notes?

“Roger, I know you were mad, as were all of us. I get it. But you can’t leave the roadies to clean up your mess alone,”

His voice was surprisingly soft and clear, even after 2 hours of singing. In any other case, Roger would have felt comforted by the words, but this was the first time Freddie ever spoke to him privately. His blue eyes must’ve looked like saucers, mouth dropping the tiniest bit agape. 

He tried to splutter something coherent but could only manage a, “Sorry,” before running off to pick up his drum kit. 

The first time Freddie speaks to him and it was in fact to scold him. Not surprising.

♚

The third time he spoke was on purpose.

John sat away from the others, far far away, crouched over a table, tongue sticking out, eyebrows furrowed. He scribbled furiously on paper and with more intensity, scratched things out. 

Nothing was coming out right. Every word he wrote was garbage. 

John signed, setting the pencil down, looking at the sheet that was supposed to be a song, but was more X’s and crossed out lines than music. 

How did the others do it? Sit down and compose the most beautiful notes and lyrics he’s ever heard? How did Freddie write symphonies and Roger with his interwoven melodies and Brian with his heart touching words?

All John ever wrote was trash. Song’s that deserved nothing more than to be tossed in a bin or a fire. 

He crumpled up his paper, tossing it across the table before resting his forehead against the cool wood. He should stick to bass playing. The other 3 handled the song making perfectly fine without him. There was no point in pushing himself to be something that he couldn’t be.

He jumped when a hand gently touched his shoulder. He looked back, shoulders slumping when he saw Freddie’s smiling face.

At least Freddie wouldn’t make fun of his incompetence, he thought to himself miserably.

Freddie pulled up a chair next to John, grabbing the balled up paper and unfurling it, eyes scanning through the chaos. John didn’t even care, preferring to sulk in silence.

“Pull yourself together, ‘Cause you know you should do better, that’s because you’re a free man…that’s actually quite lovely, John. Beautiful. You have something here, Deacy. Don’t be hard on yourself,”

John blinked, listening to the voice he thought he’d never hear, nodding almost obediently.

It took John a few moments to collect himself, blubbering back to Freddie, “R-Really?” There was more he’d like to ask and say, but Freddie speaking one on one with him for the very first time left him a little rattled.

Freddie laughed that big toothy grin he rarely let himself show and said, “Truly,” before he got up and left.

John grabbed the paper, fingers vibrating, looking back across the room to where Freddie had rejoined the others. It wasn’t the pep talk he ever imagined he would get, but boy did it push him to keep trying. He smiled to himself, picking up the pencil again.


End file.
